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Jenny kissed me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in, Time you thief, who love to get, Sweets into your list, you put in, Say you’re weary, say you’re sad, Say that health and wealth have missed me, Say I’m growing old, but add Jenny kissed me.
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Music is the medicine of the breaking heart.
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Whenever evil befalls us, we ought to ask ourselves, after the first suffering, how we can turn it into good. So shall we take occasion, from one bitter root, to raise perhaps many flowers.
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If you are ever at a loss to support a flagging conversation, introduce the subject of eating.
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Sympathizing and selfish people are alike, both given to tears.
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